Racking up penalties, p.7
Racking Up Penalties, page 7
We move around each other with practiced ease, laughter bouncing off the walls as we share silly anecdotes. The tension from earlier is forgotten.
Every now and then, our eyes meet, and something unspoken hums between us. It’s in these fleeting glances that I catch glimpses of the Tristan I know, the one whose laughter can light up a room.
“Remember when Emma tried to make her ‘famous’ lasagna and almost burnt down the house?” I chuckle, pouring more wine.
“I had blocked that out,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m still convinced she used charcoal instead of cheese.”
“Hey, don’t let her hear you say that,” I warn playfully, bumping his hip with mine.
Dinner comes together like a patchwork of flavors and effort. We sit down at my small table, plates heaped with food, the rich aroma enveloping us. It feels good to be here, to be doing this simple, everyday thing with Tristan.
“Thanks for this, Tessa. Really,” Tristan says, his voice softer now, carrying a weight that makes my heart squeeze.
“Anytime,” I reply, meaning every word. “This is what friends do, right?”
“Right,” he echoes, but the way he looks at me, eyes lingering a beat too long, makes me wonder what’s hiding behind that affirmation.
“More wine?” I ask, breaking the moment.
“Definitely,” he agrees, holding out his glass.
Laughter fades and the room grows quiet, the only sound is the scratch of utensils on plates. Tristan’s gaze drifts away from me, his brow furrowing slightly as if he’s wrestling with an invisible opponent. The air between us thickens with unspoken words.
“Tristan?” I prompt gently, tilting my head to catch his eye. “You okay?”
He snaps back, a smile quickly sketched across his lips. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”
“About?” I ask, curiosity piqued. It’s unlike Tristan to hold back; he’s always been a straight shooter, especially with me.
“Nothing important,” he dismisses, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re like pools of midnight blue, reflecting some inner turmoil.
“Come on, you can tell me anything, you know that.” I lean in.
He opens his mouth, closes it, then shakes his head with a rueful chuckle. “It’s really nothing. Just—”
“Tristan, if it’s about Emma, she’s fine. Alec and the guys, they’re good for her,” I assure him, guessing at the root of his silence.
“No, no, it’s not that,” he says quickly, waving off the suggestion. “Emma’s happy. That’s all I ever wanted for her.”
“Then what is it?” My voice is soft and encouraging, but he just shrugs, locking whatever it is back inside. I let it slide, not wanting to pry too hard, afraid I might break something.
“Okay, you’re right. I should say it. Just say it.” Tristan looks at me with an intense gaze. “Emma is really happy with three guys and I’ve gotten an up-close chance to see how it works. So, go on those dates with Liam and Ethan but I don’t want to be left behind.”
“Tristan, what are you-”
“I love you, Tessa. I’ve always loved you and I came to this school to make you mine. I’m not letting some hockey players get in the way of that. I can’t play a slow, long game anymore and I never should have. So, I am telling you. I love you Tessa Montgomery and I want you to be mine.”
I stare at him, mouth hanging open in shock. I have to be dreaming, right? There’s no way this is real.
I embarrass myself by pinching my wrist. Tristan notices and laughs but not enough to be genuine. He’s nervous and looking at me like I’m the world to him.
How did I miss this? I got it so wrong.
I stand up and slowly move around the table until I’m on his side, and hop right into his arms.
Our eyes lock, and everything else fades away. My heart races as he leans closer, each movement deliberate, full of intention. His hand comes up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear and sending shivers down my spine. My breath catches, anticipation mingling with uncertainty.
“I love you too, Tristan.”
I’m perched on Tristan’s lap, the hard edge of the kitchen table pressing into my back. The room seems to hold its breath, the air charged with a tension that buzzes against my skin like static electricity.
Tristan’s deep blue eyes are locked onto mine, and in them, I see a reflection of my own wild heartbeat. A silent permission hangs between us, and it’s all the invitation I need. I lean in, close the gap, and press my lips to his.
The kiss detonates like a firework inside me, bursting with heat, color, and light. My fingers tangle in his sandy-brown hair, pulling him closer as if I could meld him into me. His hands slide up my back, firm and commanding, setting every nerve ending ablaze. Our mouths move together in a rhythm that’s both frantic and perfectly timed.
His lips are soft, urgent, pushing against mine with a fervor that tells stories of pent-up longing. There’s a taste of wine on his tongue from the half-forgotten glasses sitting on the table. It mingles with the addictive flavor of him, a combination that has me diving deeper into the kiss, wanting, needing more.
I can feel the table’s surface behind me, cold through the thin fabric of my shirt, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth spreading from where Tristan’s body presses against mine. His breath hitches against my mouth, and something within me flares even hotter at the sound. This kiss is a confession, a promise, an unraveling of self-control that I’ve never experienced before.
Our breathing is ragged, hearts pounding out a fierce staccato that syncs for just a moment before breaking into chaos again. I’m lost in the sensation of him - the strength of his arms, the gentle caress of his thumbs against my ribs, the way his slightest movement sends waves of desire crashing through me.
As we finally pull away, gasping for air, the world tilts back into focus, leaving me dizzy with emotion. I rest my forehead against his, and for a fleeting second, I wonder how a kiss can feel so much like coming home.
“Tristan, I never knew you felt this way. I thought I was considered a sister,” I confess.
He bursts out laughing. “Trust me, I never saw you that way. I was always trying to make a move and you never saw it.”
“Did you really transfer here for me?”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach when he nods, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “So, does this mean you’re my girl?”
“Like your girlfriend?” I ask, hopefully.
He smirks. “Absolutely.”
Even though he said I should go on the dates with Liam and Ethan, I know what I need to do now.
I’m not doing anything to lose Tristan now that I have him.
“I will cancel with Ethan and Liam right away.” I lean back to grab my phone but Tristan stops me, tugging me back into his body.
“No. I’m not afraid of a little competition as long as you’re mine and they know it. You could ditch Ethan but I like Liam.”
I stare into his eyes, full of certainty. I know Tristan and he means what he’s saying.
Emma has really changed his perspective on this.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
I really want this. There is something about Liam and Ethan that draws me in. I was planning on getting my own group of men after Emma, never expecting Tristan would be part of it but always secretly hoping.
And he has just given me permission to do that.
“Absolutely.”
I smile and lean in to kiss him again. “Okay then.”
Chapter 13
I have the girl of my dreams in my arms kissing me. There is nothing in the world that could make me happier.
Thank fuck I finally found the courage to tell Tessa I love her.
And she loves me back.
She. Fucking. Loves. Me.
The heat from Tessa’s body seeps into mine, branding me with a yearning that has long been simmering beneath the surface. Our lips move together with an urgency that speaks volumes more than words ever could. My hands cradle her face, thumbs caressing those soft cheeks flushed with the same desire that’s coursing through my veins. Her petite frame fits perfectly against me, every curve melding into the hard lines of my body as if we’re two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
“Tristan,” she breathes against my lips, a single whisper that carries the weight of all the unspoken emotions churning within us.
I can’t help but tighten my grip around her, our kiss deepening. It’s as though I’m trying to memorize the feel of her, the taste of her, this electric connection that buzzes between us. The world outside this bubble of passion fades away until there’s nothing left but Tessa and the thudding of my heart.
On impulse, fueled by a mix of affection and raw need, I scoop her into my arms. She gasps, a sound swallowed by our continued kiss, her arms winding around my neck. The strength in my muscles from years on the football field makes it easy to carry her.
Our lips remain locked, a seamless dance of give and take as I walk us over to the couch.
“Tristan,” she murmurs again, her voice laced with wonder and a hint of something deeper, something vulnerable that tugs at the core of me.
“You are mine, Tessa,” I reply against her lips, the words spilling out as naturally as breathing. There’s no going back now, not when every fiber of my being is intertwined with hers.
With careful steps, I lower us both onto the couch, ensuring her comfort above all else. As we sink into the soft cushions, I’m acutely aware of the fact that everything is about to change. But as long as Tessa’s with me, every uncertainty seems conquerable, every fear insignificant.
With a strength that surprises me, I break our heated kiss. My eyes lock with hers—those playful hazel orbs that have haunted my dreams. They’re wide, searching, reflecting a storm of emotions that mirror my own.
“Tessa,” my voice is a whisper, heavy with the weight of what I’m about to confess, “there’s something I need you to know.” My heart hammers against my ribcage, threatening to escape. “I’ve… I’ve never been with anyone.”
The air between us trembles with my admission, the world narrowing down to just this moment, just us.
“Never?” Her voice is light with surprise but not judgment.
“Never,” I affirm, the truth of it settling around us. “Because it’s always been you, Tess. It couldn’t be anyone else.” There’s a vulnerability in laying bare my soul, but if not to Tessa, then to whom?
“Tristan,” she breathes out, and my name on her lips feels like the softest caress. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, a silent language that speaks of care and acceptance. “I… I had no idea.”
“I know but I always knew I would find a way to have you even if you only ever thought of me as Emma’s little brother.”
“Tristan,” she whispers, and there’s a tenderness in her eyes that wraps around me like a warm embrace. “We should take things slow. Enjoy every step. I want to make this perfect for you.”
My body responds instinctively as she draws me closer. The faint scent of her perfume, a mix of vanilla and something wild, fills my senses. My breath hitches when I feel the heat of her skin radiating through the thin fabric of her clothes.
“Slow and special,” she says softly, and I can hear the smile in her voice. I’m aware of the gift she’s offering me—the gift of her patience, her desire to explore this new territory at my pace. Her warmth envelops me, sending shivers cascading down my spine, a thrilling contrast to the cozy room around us.
I lean in, my every sense sharpening as I press my lips to her neck. The soft sighs slipping from her lips guide me.
Her hands find their way into my hair, pulling gently then grasping with a growing urgency that resonates deep within me.
“Right there… just like that,” she coaches, her voice a velvet command that thrums through me. I want to be the one who knows her intimately, who can unravel her with just a kiss, a lick, a caress.
She moans when I lick a spot right below her ear and I make a mental note to do it again soon.
My heart pounds against my ribs, a steady drumbeat fueling my movements. The world narrows down to the heat of her skin, the intoxicating scent that is uniquely Tessa, a mixture of spice and sweetness.
“More, please,” Tessa pleads, and I oblige, slowly kissing down her neck until I reach the top of her shirt.
A bright teal blouse that I know she made. I slowly grab the bottom button of that blouse and look into her eyes, asking for permission.
“Yes. Yes, please!”
Her pleas are music to my ears.
One by one I undo the buttons and kiss the skin each one reveals to me until I can slide it off her. Her little pink lacy bra is what dreams are made of.
“I’ve imagined the look on your face a lot over the years but nothing could compare to seeing it now,” she whispers, cupping my cheek.
I know my grin is downright filthy. “I’ve imagined how you’ll look when I make you come on my tongue.”
Before she can answer, I lean down and bite her nipple through the lace then sooth it with my tongue.
I lick down her body and flip up her skirt to see matching pink, lacy panties.
“So, can I?” I ask without breaking eye contact with her perfect pussy.
Tessa pulls her panties down and tosses them aside. “I will kill you if you don’t.”
I press my mouth to her and slide my tongue through her wetness. Her taste explodes on my tongue, making me moan long and loud.
Thankfully Emma isn’t here, no sister needs to hear a sound like that.
I circle her clit before sucking on it.
I’ve watched porn. I didn’t want to be clueless and let’s be honest, I’m not a saint.
Using everything I learned, I make Tessa shake under me.
I suck on her clit then circle around it before moving lower and stabbing my tongue in and out, enjoying every taste of her. Flicking my tongue seems to get her really worked up.
“Tristan, I’m so close,” she breathes out, her voice laced with a vulnerability that only heightens this moment. Her fingers tighten in my hair, a silent urging that I understand all too well. I double my efforts, driven by the need to see her unravel, to witness the release of her passion because of me.
I slide two fingers inside her and curl them up, making her shatter around me. I keep my lips right where they are, working her through her orgasm, while I look up and see that face I’ve dreamt of.
Her eyes are glassy as they roll back in her head and her mouth forms an ‘o.’ I commit it to memory.
“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” Tessa confesses. “Now, I want to taste you.”
Tessa pulls me up and flips us so I’m the one sitting on the couch and she’s kneeling in front of me.
Her lips leave a trail of fire as they travel upwards from my abdomen, each kiss a promise of what’s to come. A shudder rips through me when I feel her breath ghosting over my skin, teasing and testing my resolve.
She strips my clothes and doesn’t hesitate before licking up my shaft.
It is fucking heaven.
I can die right now and be the happiest man in the world.
The world narrows down to the sensation of her mouth enveloping me. Warmth, wetness, pressure—every nerve ending sings as she takes me deeper, her tongue swirling.
“Tess…” The words slip out on a ragged breath.
She hums around me, the vibration sending waves of pleasure radiating through my body. My hands find their way to the couch, gripping the edge as if it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality.
Tessa’s pace quickens. I’m teetering on the edge, caught between wanting to surrender to the bliss and holding onto the moment, savoring the intimacy that we’re creating together.
I am going to need to build up some endurance.
“Tessa… I’m so close,” I manage to choke out, voice strained with the effort to remain coherent. Her gaze locks onto mine, hazel eyes alight with determination and something softer, a tenderness that wraps around my heart like a vine.
She sucks me deeper into her mouth and that’s all the sign I need.
I let go, tumbling into an ecstasy that’s all-consuming and profound, my body tensing as pleasure courses through me in waves. Tessa doesn’t falter, swallowing me as I come down her throat.
I pull Tessa close, her breath warm against my neck as our limbs entwine with an urgency that’s both wild and comforting. Every fiber of my being is attuned to hers, the rhythm of our hearts synchronizing. Her soft curves mold to my harder edges, and I’m struck by the perfection of this fit, of us together.
Her slender fingers trace the muscles of my back, sending shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the cool air of the room. It’s like she’s sketching promises on my skin, pledges of affection that I feel deep in my bones. My hands are just as busy, memorizing the dips and rises of her body, every reaction I elicit from her etched into my memory.
“That was incredible,” I gasp, my voice hoarse with emotion. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the scent that’s all her and that now and forever will mean home.
The warmth of Tessa’s skin mingles with mine, our breaths syncing in the quiet aftermath of shared passion. We lie entangled on the living room couch, her long red hair sprawled like a fiery halo around her head. This moment feels like a sealed secret between us.
Suddenly, the sound of keys jostles us to alertness. The click and turn of the lock is a sharp reminder that we are in the living room. We scramble up, urgency overtaking languid movements. I watch as Tessa frantically grabs her scattered clothing, tossing me my shirt with frantic hazel eyes that mirror the chaos of our situation.
“Shit, Emma’s back. She was supposed to be gone,” she hisses, sliding into her blouse with a speed that would impress a magician.
“Stay calm,” I murmur, pulling on my jeans in a rush. My shirt hangs awkwardly, buttoned wrong in my haste. There’s no hiding what was happening here, the evidence written all over the disheveled cushions and the flush on Tessa’s cheeks.
